


The Colors Are My Favorite

by blackwatch-jess (KessijaScene)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU (sort of), Angst, Blind!York, F/M, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KessijaScene/pseuds/blackwatch-jess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a quiet moment in a box canyon, Agent Washington remembers a ghost from his past, and suddenly the colors around him are too bright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Colors Are My Favorite

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: An in detail description of the actual shades of color from all the Red vs Blue uniforms.
> 
> I took this prompt and made it something new. I enjoy how it turned out.
> 
> AU in which everything is the same, but both of York's eyes were damaged from Maine's grenade.
> 
> Italics are flashbacks.

The heat had forced Wash to cut training early today. While Caboose had been ready to run himself into the ground, Tucker was shaking from the exhaustion and practically begged for the rest of the day off. Wash felt like a walking toaster oven so he swallowed his pride and ended the drills. Tucker had proceeded to tear off pieces of his armor and flop into the grass; Caboose looked lost at the change in routine, so Washington took pity on him, ordering him to go on a special mission and find out if there were any flowers in the canyon; the regulation blue soldier was thrilled at the suggestion and raced off, leaving Wash with a smile. Out of habit, he looked up at the cliffside, searching for Carolina’s armor against the dusty orange rocks. And once again, he felt the habitual pang of disappointment. A bubble of anger threatened to rise, but he just sighed and moved to sit in the shade.

His helmet tapped against the side of the base as he leaned back. There wasn’t even a semblance of a breeze to cool off the canyon, and Wash gritted his teeth. Sweat rolled down his chest, and his head felt hazy from the heat; he watched Tucker tie back his braids into a ponytail, and another smile touched at his lips. In the distance, he could hear Caboose’s voice followed by the gruff shouting of Sarge. Apparently, he’d wandered too close to the red base, and now was being interrogated. It made Wash roll his eyes, but vaguely he thought about how easy it was here: get Tucker to sleep with clothes on, keep the reds from blowing up anything important, and keep Caboose from killing anyone. Wash sighed contentedly, tucking his chin against his chest and dozing off in the shadow of the base.

_“What’s she doing now?”_

_“Agent Carolina has cornered Agent South Dakota in the southeastern section of the map, unbeknownst to her. She appears to think she has the upper hand, as she hasn’t seen Agent Carolina y--Agent Carolina has combat rolled in behind South. She is still unaware. That will surely reflect poorly in her report.”_

_“Director’s gonna be pissed,” he agreed. “She still sneaking up on her?”_

_“Yes. She appears to be toying with South. Surely she will strike--she has pinned Agent South Dakota to the ground, gun to her forehead.”_

_F.I.L.L.I. S. announced, “Agent Carolina: 1, Agent South Dakota: 0. Resetting arena for stealth round two.”_

_York sat off by himself in the worn office chair, the other Freelancers bunched up by the opposite end of the window. His A.I. unit, Delta remains standing on the window’s ledge, watching the training session to relay what happens. York’s voice was low to prevent drawing attention to himself and distracting the others watching._

_“What’s the course look like?” York asked, scratching absentmindedly at the scarring under his eyes._

_“May I remind you that you are advised not to cause further trauma by scratching at the--”_

_“I know, Delta,” York quipped, eyebrows furrowing. “Actually, I think I’m done for tonight. Get me back to my quarters, would ya?”_

_“As you wish.”_

_York stood from his chair, and he started towards what he was pretty sure was the door. His fingertips ghosted over the wall to his left as Delta informed him he was on the right path. He ran out of wall and went to turn and leave when he collided with something._

_“Oh! Sorry, York!”_

_“It is Agent Washington,” Delta hummed somewhere on his right shoulder._

_“I know, Delta,” he repeated, irritation plain in his voice. “I can hear just fine.” Truth be told, he hadn’t immediately registered who he’d bumped into and that frustrated him just as much, if not more, than Delta’s constant nagging. He knew the A.I. was the only thing keeping him in the program, but it still ached to be treated like this._

_“Where you headed?” Wash asked. “Carolina still has a few rounds.”_

_“Yeah,” York said, trying to sound more flippant than he really was. “I know she’ll do fine. I’ve just got a headache, and Delta’s narrating is great and all, but I can only take so much dryness.” He forced a laugh._

_“If you want, I could narrate.” York cocked an eyebrow, and Wash stumbled over himself trying to backtrack. “I-I mean if you want, I get it if you just want to catch a nap o-or whatever.”_

_“Actually? That’d be pretty nice. Change of pace is always good.” York smiled, stepping out of Wash’s way. “Delta?”_

_“Yes, York?”_

_“Get some rest.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “Thanks. Sorry for snapping.”_

_“I understand. Radical change can incite severe mood swings and feelings of helplessness, causing irritation,” Delta offered flatly. “I know you meant no harm.” A hesitation on Delta’s part. “And...you are welcome, York.” He powered down._

_“Alright, let’s see what she’s up to,” York said, tracing his path back to his seat. Wash followed, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. “So...what’s going on?”_

_“She’s, um, in the left side of the map.” Wash’s voice shook slightly, as though he was uncertain. “The map is set up, uh, it’s the one with the pitfalls.”_

_“Oh! Okay!” York’s brain formed the image, creating the pillars in the correct places and adding the traps. He loved working on this map and trained on it on his own often. “Left side...so she should be in the tripwire area?”_

_“Yeah!” York grinned, thinking of Carolina tiptoeing through the map. She always snagged the one in the archway and it always made her lose the round. Wash started again, “Okay, she looks like she’s going to start heading for South who’s in the northern end, heading, well, south.” A pause. “Carolina triggered a tripwire. Not good. South will know where she’s at now.”_

_“Let me guess, the one in the archway?”_

_“Yeah! How did you know?”_

_York smiled. “Lucky guess.” While Delta’s narration was more precise, more militant in it’s description, he liked listening to Wash talk. It was refreshing. He turned his head to face Wash, a content look touching his face. He could get used to this._

Wash jerked awake, looking around. Tucker was still in the grass, the yelling at red base had quieted down. He looked up, and saw the sun had risen from where it had been when he’d fallen asleep.  Washington placed his head in his palms, helmet clinking gently against his armor. The dream about York had been heartwrenchingly vivid; his stomach was in knots, and he thought he might throw up. Why now? He shivered, despite the heat.

“Agent Washingtub!”

Thankfully, Wash was distracted by Caboose shouting his (incorrect) name. He lifted his head and watched Caboose barrel up the hill at him. “What is it, Caboose?”

“I went on the special mission!” He thrusted a handful of flowers in Washington’s hands. “There are so many pretty flowers! Private Danish from the red team wants me to show him where they are!”

“That’s great, Caboose.” He looked over the assortment of wildflowers. Caboose was still standing there. “I thought you were going to show Donut where they were?”

“Well, I need you to approve! This mission was top super secret!” Caboose sounded as though this was very obvious information, and it almost made Wash smile.

“Alright. I approve.”

“Yes! Thank you, Wash!” He bolted off in the direction of red base, leaping over Tucker’s sleeping form in the process. He watched him disappear over the crest of another small hill and sighed, looking down at the flowers in his hands. He gently thumbed a small white petal, drinking in the variety of colors. He closed his eyes, only to find another memory playing like a lost file.

_“Tell me.”_

_“What?”_

_“I don’t know...just tell me. Something. I’m going out of my mind here.”_

_Washington chewed his lip as he tried to think of what to say. They’d been shipped off to a small planet to pick up supplies. Usually this was reserved for the other soldiers, but Carolina had pulled strings with the director to get York out and off the M.O.I. Unfortunately, as a way to spite her using her connections, the director had sent Washington with him rather than her._

_“Seaside town. The buildings are all white, and they’re built very rounded.”_

_“Like that place on earth.”_

_“Greece,” provided Delta._

_“Yeah,” Washington said. “But the ocean here is almost silver. The blue is still there, pale, and just barely tinting it. It’s beautiful, and it’s shimmering in the sunlight like diamonds.”_

_“The ocean here is comprised mostly of mercury. The people here are not affected as it is a common element and they have likely adapted to it over time. However, we must stay clear of it.”_

_“Alright, D, you’re hogging the stage,” York warned goodnaturedly. “I like listening to Wash. The colors are my favorite.”_

_Wash’s heart fluttered at the thought. He looked around, and he smiled as he said, “The people here are interesting. They’re purple. But not, like, South purple. They’re softer, like lavender. And their hair is primarily dark colors, but they seem to dye the ends different colors. Probably culturally significant.”_

_“What colors?” York asked. They turn down a cobbled street toward the contact they were to meet about ammunition._

_“Mostly shades of blue or green. Navy blue, aquamarine, pastel blue, green so bright it could probably be used as reflectors.” York laughed, and Wash’s smile widened. He wanted to hear that sound forever._

_“The contact is ahead on the left,” Delta supplied._

_“Alright, let’s get what we need, then we can shop around.” York grinned, turning his head toward Wash. “I’m making the most of this outing.”_

_After picking up the bags and paying the contact, the two freelancers made their way toward the market district of the city. Wash spent the walk describing the scenery, wanting nothing more than to make York happy. He paid attention to everything he could, to the cracks in the stone path to the posters on the sides of buildings. Wash told York about the civilian on the side of the cobblestone path who was covered in silver paint markings and making signs with his hands. Delta supplied that he was a messenger of this people’s goddess, and he was there to provide blessings for passersby. A mural was painted on the wall of a large building, and they stood in front of it for several minutes as Wash described the scenes and Delta filled in it’s cultural importance; York was slack jawed in awe, and Wash’s heart swelled as he watched him. They finally made it the markets, and York, with the help of Delta, made his way to a booth selling jewelry._

_“Delta, can you speak to them?”_

_“Yes, I can.” Delta shimmered away and reappeared on the table. He began to speak to them, introducing them as travellers in a way customary to the people. They responded and offered a large smile. “They are pleased to welcome visitors and will treat us as guests of the Tekrath people. Feel welcome to browse their selection freely.”_

_“Pronouns?”_

_“They. The Tekrath people are genderless.”_

_“Gotcha. Thanks, D.” York smiled at them and then turned to regard Wash. “I’m looking for rings. What looks good here? And before you ask, no I don’t know what I have in mind.”_

_Wash rolled his eyes; he dipped down and began to sort through the jewelry. “This one is nice. A black metal band. Inlaid with navy gems.”_

_“Eh, anything silver?”_

_“Plenty. It’s pretty important on this planet, if you couldn’t tell.” York let out a low laugh, and Wash’s throat tightened. He distracted himself by picking up a ring. “So this one, it’s all silver. But it’s different pieces braided together. No gems, though.”_

_“Let me feel.”_

_Wash dropped the ring in York’s palm, fingers brushing together and sending his head spinning. He watched York run it between thumb and forefinger with a soft smile. York slipped it on his index finger and it nearly got stuck on his second knuckle. “Yeah, it’s a little small. I can see if there’s a bigger size, if you want.”_

_“Nah, this should fit Carolina perfect.” York grinned. Wash’s face fell, and his stomach dropped.  “D, ask them how much.”_

_Her name echoed in his head the whole ride back to the M.O.I._

Wash opened his eyes, looking across the canyon at nothing in particular. His eyes swam a little, and his throat felt tight. He tried not to think of him, of his laugh and his voice and the way he smiled. But he was burned into his mind, and Wash hated it. He hadn’t thought about York since he died, and now he was rushing back in waves. Washington almost had to gasp for breath, he was so overwhelmed. A few moments passed, and Wash looked at the flowers he held. A pained smile pulled his lips.

“The petals. They’re pink, with a touch of red in the center.”

 _Like a watermelon that isn’t ripe yet._ He could hear him as clearly as if he were beside him.

“But some of them are white. Whiter than snow almost. But they’re freckled with purple.”

_What kind of purple?_

“South purple. Well, maybe a little darker.” Wash lifted his head, trying not to let the tears slip. “Tucker’s armor is teal, but darker and with more green to it than Carolina. She has more blue in hers, more of an aquamarine.” He spots Caboose running with Donut. “Now Caboose, he’s regulation blue. Navy. A little lighter than Florida’s armor. And Donut, his is pink. Soft pink.”

_Is it powder pink or more vibrant?_

“Brighter. Think rose pink.” Wash clutches the flowers too tight, and he hears the stems snapping. “Simmons has maroon armor, rich deep red. It shines like a new car how clean he keeps it. It has a grey undertone, so it’s smoky. Nice to look at. Sarge is red. Just goddamn red.”

He can almost hear York laugh, and it makes him bite his lip.

“It’s red, but it’s so worn it looks dusty. It’s lost a lot of it’s vibrancy.”

_Brick red._

“Yeah, that’s a good word for it. And Grif...he’s orange. But it’s not overbearing. Think like...like a hibiscus. Orange, muted, but still vibrant.”

_And you? Still the same?_

“For a while I had blue armor. Light blue, but still kinda dull. Like a hazy summer sky.”

_Still kinda dull, huh? Sounds just like you, Wash._

“But now I’ve got the old colors back. Old habits die hard, I guess.” Like describing the colors of the world to a ghost. He looked down at the crumpled flowers in his hands. “I loved you.”

_I asked her to marry me. With that ring you picked. She said maybe ‘after.’ I don’t know what she meant by ‘after.’ But I’ll wait. I will wait._

Those words echoed, a memory rather than the conjured words of a ghost. Wash remembered that night. York had come to see him much later than ever. He looked defeated, and hadn’t even woken Delta up. Wash squeezed his shoulders, pulled him tight as he assured him that she would say yes. York had hugged him, clung to him like a lifeline and thanked him for all he’d done. When he woke Delta to help him back to his quarters, Wash watched him leave with broken blue eyes.

Even now, his chest felt like it was going to cave in. Wash stood from his spot in the grass and wandered inside for the rest of the day.

The next morning, when Tucker woke Wash, he was standing at his window, murmuring quietly about colors. The flowers were in a glass beside his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading. <3


End file.
